


Fuck You No One Loves You Like Me

by theauthorish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dorks in Love, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: Futakuchi Kenji isn't the best person, but he definitely deserves better than a shitty disaster week.He only wishes the universe didn't choose to make it up to him by apparently making him next-door neighbors with his high school crush--He doesn't need a goddamn rom-com, thanks, much less a "And They Were Neighbors" one at that!





	1. In Which The Universe Hates Kenji, Apparently

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [free food](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808650) by [glitch_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitch_writes/pseuds/glitch_writes). 



> HA hi another work in the same day? Yes. Is it from the backlog? Also yes. It's shorter than most chapters ik but i needed this out there so tada. Kamafuta. Thanks to glitch for letting me use her au!!!
> 
> Title borrowed from the song by Alexander Jean

Kenji didn't deserve this. Okay, so he wasn't the nicest guy around; he had a tendency to piss people off solely because he liked knowing he could get under people's skin, he was a tiny bit cocky, and also, he had admittedly been pretty bratty with his senpai back in high school (and… still was, when they had their reunions)-- but this was a disaster day he did not deserve in the slightest.

 

First, he’d forgotten to plug his phone the night before, which meant it died in the morning before his alarm could go off. Luckily, he had a powerbank in his bag and a body still used to waking up at ungodly hours of the morning for volleyball practice, so he only woke up ten minutes later than he should have, and since the buses ran every fifteen minutes, he would still be able to make it to work early enough that he got off with a warning--

 

Except of course, the bus he meant to get on found a flat tire just as it rolled up to the stop, and Kenji had the choice of either walking the ten blocks to work or waiting another 15 minutes for the next one.

 

When he finally made it to work-- surprise, surprise, the shitty day got even worse! There were already three angry customers waiting on the manager for what turned out to be menial complaints, none of which were actually the fault of the staff. The only good thing about them was that it gave Kenji a legitimate outlet for all the built up irritation from the morning, which he gladly made use of.

 

After they left in a huff, Kenji patted the staff members (who had been yelled at undeservingly) on the shoulders, thanked them for managing in his absence, and went on with the rest of his work.

 

Admittedly, the rest of the workday had been more boring than terrible, but he was just about to get on the bus going home when he realized he’d left his phone at work, which meant turning around to fetch it, and then waiting for the next bus-- again. He was playing with it when the bus rolled up, and some kid hopped off almost before the doors had opened… and knocked right into Kenji. The collision sent his phone flying from his grip and onto the pavement, and Kenji wasn't even surprised to find the screen cracked for good measure.

 

He groaned. “Fuck, really?” he muttered to himself. He’d dropped his phone, like, a million times before this from higher heights. Why was  _ now  _ when it chose to break?

 

Grumbling, he’d headed home, fully ready to relax and enjoy some dumb movies--

 

And now the fire alarm was ringing. What the fuck. That was like. The second time this week, why were the alarms of this new place so sensitive? (Rationally, Kenji knew too sensitive was better than not sensitive enough, but he was grumpy and salty and he had literally just started unbuttoning his work shirt--)

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he hissed, not even bothering to button it back up. He wasn't body shy, his neighbors could just deal. Really, they should be thankful. Kenji wasn't as fit as when he’d still played volleyball, obviously, but he was still pretty defined. Anyone would be lucky to see a glimpse of his chest.

 

He marched out of his apartment with a scowl. He had better meet like, some intensely hot, gay neighbor to make up for the shit day, he thought. The universe owed him.

 

/////

 

The residents were gathered in the garden, waiting for the go ahead to return to their homes, when Futakuchi decided to take back the thing about the hot neighbor. He didn't want it, universe, not if it was--

 

It was too late. Before Kenji could duck behind a tree or something, Kamasaki spotted him, eyes growing wide. “Futakuchi? That you?”

 

Kenji cursed internally, but he fixed on a smirk and waved. “I don't know, Kamasaki-senpai, do you know anyone else as good-looking as I am?”

 

Kamasaki snorted, striding over and ruffling his hair like he was a little kid. Kenji wanted to say it pissed him off, but… it didn't really. It was almost comforting, after the day he’d had. “Brat,” he said, though it sounded more endearing than derogatory. “You’re still as cocky as ever.”

 

“You’re still as ridiculous as ever,” Kenji replied, without much bite. “Still rolling up your T-shirt sleeves even in the winter?” Although… Kenji did kinda miss ogling his arms like this--

 

_ Fuck _ , he really did  _ not  _ want this, universe. He didn't need a second gay crisis, okay?

 

Was it even his second one, if it was over the same damn guy?

 

Kamasaki raised an eyebrow, gesturing with one hand at Kenji’s half-opened shirt. “Your shirt isn't even buttoned most of the way. Aren't’cha being a hypocrite?”

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Kenji started buttoning his goddamn shirt. “I was in the middle of undressing when the alarm went off.”

 

His brain caught up to his mouth a few seconds later, and he glared at Kamasaki, daring him to make a jab of some sort. Kamasaki smirked, but didn't comment-- what a shame. Kenji had been looking forward to arguing with him.

 

“So, you live here? Or did you come home with someone?”

 

Kenji wanted to laugh. He hadn't slept with anyone in months. He was too tired more often than not. “Which will bother you more?”

 

“ _ Brat _ .” Kamasaki rolled his eyes. It was a testament to how well he knew Kenji that he said, “You're my neighbor then?” 

 

Kenji grinned. “I guess so! Aren't you lucky, senpai?”

 

“Tch. More like unlucky.”

 

He laughed. Well, if nothing else, at least he had someone to poke fun at.

 

/////

 

Kenji’s phone died. Not because it was out of battery-- in fact, it was fully charged, now that Kenji had learned his lesson the week before-- but because it was just… broken. As if the cracked screen wasn't enough, now it was just frozen on the homescreen, and he couldn't power it off.

 

He cursed at it, as if that would somehow make his fiddling take effect. It didn't work, obviously.

 

Instead, his frustrated yelling only served to summon Kamasaki-- who had turned out to be not just his neighbor, but his  _ next door  _ neighbor, like, what were the odds?-- who opened his door only to lean against the frame, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Jeez, Futakuchi, what's got you so pissed so early in the morning?”

 

“It’s already nine, Kamasaki-san, you should be up already,” Kenji said. He lifted his head from his now-defective phone--

 

And instantly regretted it.  _ Of fucking course  _ Kamasaki slept shirtless.

 

Kenji was  _ not  _ blushing, thank you.

 

“Nope,” came the reply, dragging Kenji’s attention away from his motherfucking abs-- gods, Kenji could swear they were even more defined now than they had been in high school. “I work my own hours. Don't start until noon today.”

 

“What exactly do you do? Other than slack off, that is.”

 

Kamasaki rolled his eyes. “I remember you being a lot better at retorts. I guess you're losing your stuff,” he commented, rather than rising to the bait.

 

Before Kenji could prove that he was, in fact,  _ not  _ losing his ‘stuff’, thank you very much, Kamasaki saw the phone in his hands. “What's wrong with it?”

 

Kenji groaned, letting his head fall forward to knock into his door. “I don't  _ know _ . Some bastard kid made me drop it after work last week, and it suddenly froze on me five minutes ago,” he complained.

 

Kamasaki straightened up and stepped closer, one hand outstretched. 

 

“What?”

 

The other man clicked his tongue impatiently, twitching his fingers in the universal gesture for ‘give’. “Lemme see it.”

 

Kenji wasn't entirely sure what Kamasaki could do with it, but he did-- no one tell him-- actually have a lot of trust and respect for his old senpai, so he handed it over with little trouble.

 

It wasn't like Kamasaki could make it worse anyway, if it turned out he didn't know shit after all.

 

The blonde fiddled with it a bit, and then declared, “Well, it will take me a little while, but I should be able to fix the frozen thing. Not the screen though.”

 

Kenji’s eyebrows rose. “Wait, really?”

 

“Well I suppose I could fix the screen, but I’d have to go buy a replacement. You’d have an easier time--”

 

“No, not that part,” Kenji snapped. “I meant the fixing. You know how?” He was maybe a little skeptical.

 

“Why the fuck would I offer if I didn't know how?” Kamasaki demanded, starting to head back inside. “Just leave it with me first. I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.”

 

He closed the door before Kenji could respond-- mostly because he’d maybe, sorta been staring at Kamasaki’s gorgeous fucking back.

 

Kenji hated everything in the world, he decided.

 

/////

 

When Kenji got home, he’d barely finished unbuttoning his shirt when there was a knock on the door. A glance through peephole revealed it was Kamasaki, so after a minute of standing there just to make him wait-- “Futakuchi, you bastard I know you're fuckin’ home!”-- he pulled open the door and quirked his lips into a smirk.

 

“Kamasaki-san! We have  _ got  _ to stop meeting like this,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

 

It didn't bother him in the slightest that his very hot, ridiculously unfair crush since high school-- that he  _ should  _ be over by now what the  _ fuck,  _ universe-- was currently staring at him basically shirtless.

 

Though he was thinking now that maybe he should’ve kept playing volleyball after all. That was unrelated though. Entirely unrelated.

 

When a full minute passed without a response, Kenji snapped his fingers in Kamasaki’s face. “Hello? Kamasaki-senpai, you know, you could just take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

 

“ _ Tch _ . Brat.”

 

“Hey! I’m not the one ogling poor me like a pervert of some sort!”

 

“I was not--  _ ugh _ . I  _ hate  _ you.” Kamasaki pressed one palm right up against Kenji’s sternum and pushed. Caught off-guard, Kenji stumbled backward into his own apartment, followed by Kamasaki, who muttered, “Sorry for the intrusion,” as he toed off his shoes in the genkan.

 

Kenji  _ hated  _ the universe. Seriously. He could still feel the warmth of Kamasaki’s hand over his chest, and his heart was beating a mile a minute like it was saying,  _ he was so close so close so close!!!!  _ Like some deranged fangirl and this was--

 

Ri-fucking-diculous, thanks. Kenji needed to be done with this stupid crush. He’d thought he already was!

 

This wasn't fair at all.

 

Kenji snorted. “You aren't sorry, or else you wouldn't have done it. What do you want?”

 

“Here.” Kamasaki held out his-- Kenji’s-- phone. “It should work fine, but It’s probably a good idea for you to get the screen replaced before you get hurt.”

 

Kenji took the phone and switched it on, messing around with the different apps and settings for a little bit. It really did work fine. What the fuck. “Thanks,” he said. And then because that seemed too nice for him, he added, “You know, you should use your time for work instead! Did you really have nothing better to do than fix my phone for free?”

 

“You bastard, shut the fuck up. Aren't you supposed to be grateful?”

 

Kenji hummed. “I did say thanks,” he said. “Seriously though, what do I owe you?”

 

Kamasaki waved a hand. “It wasn't hard, so how about ya just buy me lunch after my work tomorrow and we'll call it even?”

 

Was that… a date? Hm. There was only one way to find out. “Kamasaki-san, you’ll need to be smoother if you want to ask me out!” Kenji smirked. “Have you still not figured out how to flirt properly?”

 

“It’s not a date, you damn cocky jerk!” Kamasaki roared, swiping at Kenji’s shoulder. Kenji dodged, laughing the whole way.

 

“You’ve gotten slower too! Come on, Kamasaki-san, you can do better than that!”

 

Kamasaki snarled, but he didn't attempt to hit Kenji again (much to his disappointment). “Tomorrow at one thirty. Don't be late.”

 

Kenji raised an eyebrow-- pointless as it was with Kamasaki’s back to him. “I don't know where you work? Or are we meeting here?”

 

“I'll text you the address. Took the liberty of adding my number into your contacts and getting yours. Didn't think you’d mind.” He. He what.

 

Kenji had Kamsaki’s number??????

 

?????????????????????????????

 

By the time Kenji’s brain stopped reeling enough that Kenji figured he could possibly, probably cobble together a response from the shards of what used to be his mind. Kamasaki was gone with a wave and the soft click of the door shutting.

 

“Well it's too late now, isn't it!” Kenji yelped after him, he shouted it at the wall between their apartments. He thought he heard the rumble of Kamasaki’s chuckle, the one that was warm and hazy like the steam from Kenji’s too-hot showers, but he wasn't sure.

 

So. It wasn't a date. Maybe Kamasaki had a boyfriend, even.

 

God, Kenji did not sign up to star in his very own rom-com, complete with hopeless pining and easily flustered selves and sexual tension expressed in banter. Ohmygod, the coincidences were ridiculous too! One of them was always shirtless, or close to it. They lived next to each other. Kamasaki was his high school crush. And Kamasaki just so happened to be able to fix phones, right when Kenji’s fucked up what could have been permanently.

 

What was next? Late nights talking? Dorky greeting texts? Teasing remarks and coming out the door at the same time to chat? Midnight trysts at each other’s places, trading cheap beer and bad jokes and almost confessions?

 

Kenji stomped over to the couch, picked up a throw pillow, and smashed his face into it.

 

He screamed.


	2. In Which Kenji Hates The Universe Right Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to get sorted sorry guys, but I hope you enjoy it! This writing style feels really... short and barebones, so I'm not as happy with it as I could be, but I hope it's at least fun to read!

Kenji wanted to cancel on Kamasaki the moment he put in the address into maps. A gym. A goddamn  _ gym _ . That's where Kamasaki worked.

 

Did the world just hate him, or something?

 

Kenji was dumb in many, many ways, probably, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that Kamasaki of all people-- with his freakishly buff arms and his loud encouraging voice and his--

 

Wow, okay, that was  _ not  _ helping, Kenji.

 

Well, anyway, he wasn't stupid enough to think he’d be so lucky as to find out his old senpai only cleaned the place or something equally menial. Fuck. He couldn't even cancel because he  _ did  _ owe Kamasaki for the phone…  _ fuck fuck fuck. _

 

At least it would only be once. Yeah. Just once, and then he never had to think about Kamasaki working at the gym ever again.

 

/////

 

It was not only once. Kenji had no clue how, but lunch with Kamasaki had turned into a regular thing.

 

A regular, once-a-week thing. Kenji was  _ dying _ .

 

He hated it.

 

Kamasaki, like the tormentor he was, always met him at the door after seeing his client for the hour out (Kenji had been right, he was a goddamn trainer and  _ gods  _ if that wasn't an  _ image _ ). He was always glistening with sweat and flushed from exertion, and… Kenji was fairly sure he’d been caught staring hungrily more than once, but so far, Kamasaki hadn't made a big deal out of it.

 

Then again, he was probably just being all mum so he could keep riling Kenji up. No matter how late Kenji arrived after all (even the one time Kenji was an asshole and showed up an hour late), Kamasaki always waited before taking a shower. As if he was purposely making sure Kenji saw him, looking absolutely lickable and fuckable and all kinds of  _ not acceptable _ .

 

But. But. Kenji wasn't going to think too hard about that.

 

So now, here they were nestled in a little corner booth of some slightly run-down diner in the heart of town, and Kenji was entirely upset because Kamasaki wasn't rising to any of his bait at all today.

 

“You’re really making this difficult, Kamasaki-san,” Kenji complained.

 

Kamasaki snorted. “What, ‘cause I ain't losin’ my shit at you in public?”

 

“Exactly. You're no fun anymore.”

 

Kamasaki rolled his eyes and popped one of  _ Kenji’s  _ fries into his mouth. Bastard. He had his own! Why’d he have to eat Kenji’s? With a click of his tongue, Kenji swatted Kamasaki’s hand away before he could snatch another.

 

“You’re still as much of a riot as you’ve always been,’ Kamasaki chuckled quietly. He raised his cup to his lips and took a long drink. “But y’know, somethin’s been botherin’ me.” He set the cup down, leveled Kenji with a look serious enough to make him bristle. “Why do I never see you bring home groceries?”

 

Whatever Kenji had expected-- that was not it.

 

Kenji stared. “Are you serious?”

 

“Obviously. So what gives?”

 

Kenji waited, but Kamasaki didn't back down, and like hell was Kenji answering that honestly. So he leaned back in his seat instead, summoning his best (aka, most irritating) smirk to his lips. “Aw, Kamasaki-san, are you worried about me?” he simpered. 

 

Kamasaki balled up a napkin and threw it in Kenji’s face. “Cut the crap, you fucknugget. Duh _ ,  _ I’m worried. Why else would I ask?”

 

“Did you just call me a  _ fucknugget _ ?” Kenji demanded. He tossed the napkin back at Kamasaki, who dodged easily. “Honestly, Kamasaki-san, that’s so immature.”

 

“So is dodging the question,” Kamasaki retorted.

 

...Fair enough.

 

“So?”

 

Kenji sighed. Well, whatever. What could it hurt? “I live off of konbini food and instant shit, that’s why. I’m too tired to cook most of the time, so why waste the money?” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It’ll pass.”

 

Probably.

 

Kamasaki's brow furrowed. “Too tired? From work? Can’t you take a few days off?”

 

Another shrug. “Nah. We’re understaffed as it is.”

 

Kamasaki scowled down at the food between them, as if it were somehow to blame for Kenji’s terrible diet. “And you let me feed you  _ this shit  _ instead of an actual meal?”

 

“It’s not  _ shit _ ,” Kenji snapped, popping a fry (liberated from Kamasaki’s plate in retaliation for earlier) into his mouth out of spite. “It’s good.”

 

“It’s oily carbs.” Kamasaki huffed. “Next week, we eat at my place.”

 

Kenji quirked up a brow. “Who says there will be a next week?”

 

Kamasaki only laughed.

 

/////

 

The days rolled on. Kenji did his best at work, keeping up with the flood of customers and the pompous assholes that thought anyone in service or retail was meant to lick their shoes clean just because they worked a boring office job instead. He defended his workers, he snarked for himself, and at the end of the day, he picked up the slack that had been left behind.

 

They’d always been a staff of just enough-- but with one guy hospital-bound (Kenji hoped he was all right; he hadn't heard any news… maybe he ought to visit) and another on maternity leave, and the storeowners not making enough to hire any more people… well. Kenji thought he was tired before? Nah, back then he’d been let off easy.

 

After all, back then, he had been able to cook at least once in a blue moon, even if it had come out like shit and he always ate alone because people drained him more often than not, even as he craved attention.

 

Fuck emotions honestly. Kenji didn't sign up to have his midlife crisis before even hitting the  _ actual middle _ of his life.

 

Kenji groaned, burying his head in his arms. He stayed that way for a minute.

 

And then he lifted his head and got back to work on the boring, adult stuff (bills, income, that sort of shit) he’d been trying and failing to figure out for the past three hours because he kept getting distracted.

 

The clock blinked at him, warning him it was far later than he should have been up.

 

He ignored it.

 

/////

 

Of course there was a next week. There was  _ always  _ a next week.

 

Kenji managed to escape lunch by virtue of being out and about most of the day, but he somehow found himself wrangled into his neighbor’s apartment for dinner anyway.

 

Kamasaki was harping on him about punctuality and gratefulness and all sorts of other stuff that Kenji didn't particularly feel inclined to give when he  _ had  _ tried to reject the offer, but he still went without much of a fight (okay, that was a lie; he’d tried, but Kamasaki’s grip was fucking steel, and Kenji didn't fancy working up a sweat and feeling sticky and gross in vain). 

 

“You want a drink or somethin’?”

 

“I want to go home,” Kenji muttered, low enough so Kamasaki wouldn't hear him and accuse him of sulking.

 

He was  _ not _ sulking.

 

“Yo, earth to Futakuchi? Drink?” Kamasaki called again, eyebrows raised from by the open fridge. “I’ve got beer, a couple of coolers… some wine, if you want it.”

 

“Are you an alcoholic now, Kamasaki-san?” Kenji asked, glancing around and finally settling on the sofa. He raised his feet onto the coffee table, just to piss Kamasaki off.

 

Unimpressed, Kamasaki popped off the cap of one of the beers, shutting the fridge. “‘M gonna assume you don’t want one,” he said flatly.

 

Kenji waited for Kamasaki to cross the kitchen to check… whatever he had in that oven that smelled… well… good, actually. Not that Kenji would tell him so. “Wine, please,” he said, just as Kamasaki pulled the oven door open.

 

“Brat,” Kamasaki muttered. “You knew what you wanted from the start, didn’t’cha? Just purposely put off answering me until I was busy.” 

 

Well, duh.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Prick.”

 

“Wow, first you call me a brat, and then a prick? Do you treat all your guests this way? And then you offer me a drink and don’t actually get me one--” 

 

“It’s almost done,” Kamasaki cut in, raising his voice slightly to overpower Kenji. He pushed the tray of… whatever it was that Kamasaki was blocking with his ridiculous mountain of a body back into the oven and shut it, and then he pulled open a cabinet and fished out a delicate wine glass.

 

He reached into the fridge for the right bottle, popped the cork and poured some into the glass. He carried both the glass and the bottle over to the coffee table. “Here.”

 

Kenji took the glass, swilling it absently with one hand. “Do you even like wine, Kamasaki-san?” he asked, glancing over the rim of his glass at the bottle. It was almost full, like it had only been drank from once or twice. Maybe thrice.

 

Certainly not enough for it to be something Kamasaki regularly pulled out.

 

“I thought you were more a beer or whiskey kinda guy, senpai,” Kenji continued.

 

Kamasaki shrugged easily, plopping down on the sofa  _ entirely too fucking close  _ to Kenji. There was a lot of space on this thing-- there was no need for Kamasaki to sit right beside Kenji so their knees touched. But here he was. Doing that. Asshole. “I am. But sometimes my dates like wine, so I like to keep some on hand.”

 

Kenji raised an eyebrow, lips curling in a smirk. “Does that make me your date, Kamasaki-san?” he asked in his most annoying lilt. He fluttered his lashes for good measure too.

 

Kenji expected some sort of sputtering denial, or maybe a fond but exasperated ‘ _ brat _ ’ _.  _ He didn't get that. Without even turning to look, Kamasaki shrugged his shoulders, taking a swig of his beer. “If you’d like. I wouldn't say no.”

 

And…

 

_ What. _

 

Kenji felt his face burn, and he hid it as best he could in his wine, lifting it to his mouth and trying not to glance to where Kamasaki was currently licking his lips.

 

“Although, to be honest, we’re a little off-script.”

 

Kenji swallowed. “Yeah?”

 

“Mm. See, usually, I’d serve dinner first. We’d talk a little as we ate…” He ticked the tasks off on his fingers, holding two of them up for Kenji to see.

 

Curious where this is going, Kenji decided to play along. “Hm… about what?”

 

“Whatever you like.” Kamasaki shrugged again. “Though I think I’d like ta hear about your day.”

 

“My day?” Kenji echoed, rightly incredulous. Who cared about something so mundane? Especially considering Kamasaki already knew he worked a boring retail job.

 

Kamasaki nodded. “Yeah. Though I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to talk about something else. I wouldn't really be paying much attention to the words anyway.”

 

“That doesn't sound very polite.”

 

“Maybe not,” Kamasaki conceded, gaze flicking over briefly to Kenji-- who happened to already be looking. Their eyes met (purely coincidental, of course; Kenji had only been scanning Kamasaki’s face in an attempt to figure out what he was playing at, nothing more). Kamasaki didn't look away. “But it can be hard to focus when the person talking is so pretty.”

 

“ _ Excuse _ me?”

 

Kamasaki chuckled, low in his throat and far too smug for Kenji’s tastes, standing up and returning to kitchen to switch off the oven and retrieve their dinner.

 

Kenji blinked after him, and then let out a reluctant laugh. “Oh, fuck you,” he said, settling back in his seat. Beat at his own game-- Kamasaki had certainly changed.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kamasaki shot back, grinning widely at him as he set the food down on the table. “C’mon then-- the sooner you sit down, the sooner I can get back to the script.”

 

Kenji snorted, but he pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to join Kamasaki at the dining table. He was even kind enough to bring the bottle of wine with him. “You aren’t as smooth as you think you are,” he said.

 

That only earned him a smirk. “Sure about that? You’ve got a bit of a blush over there.”

 

“I don’t.” Probably.

 

He let it drop, cutting Kenji a serving of lasagna, and then doing the same for himself as Kenji finished off his drink and helped himself to a little more. 

 

Kenji picked up his fork, staring at it skeptically. Sure, it smelled heavenly, and it looked good, but who knew? Maybe it tasted funky after all. There was something suspicious about the perfectly al dente noodles and the gooey, golden cheese and what looked like just the right amount of sauce...

 

Come on, Kamasaki had to be bad at  _ something _ .

 

“Just eat it, will ya?” said the man in question, already digging into his own food. “I’m not gonna poison you.”

 

“Maybe not on purpose,” Kenji retorted, twirling his fork lightly in his hands.

 

Kamasaki rolled his eyes, speared another forkful--

 

And held it out to Kenji instead.

 

Kenji blinked.

 

“Come on.” Kamasaki grinned. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll order us something instead.”

 

Kenji shrugged, setting down his fork on his plate and scooting forward, closer to the table. “If you insist,” he drawled, leaning to take the fork in his mouth.

 

Other than a raised eyebrow, Kamasaki didn’t react. No flustered protests or angry demands to feed himself, damn it-- just quiet acceptance and a steely gaze that never left Kenji’s. Not until Kenji has straightened up, chewing thoughtfully, at any rate.

 

Kenji swallowed. “That…”

 

“Good, right?” Kamasaki’s smile was wide and smug, arms crossed over his chest-- Kenji was fairly certain said chest was actually  _ puffed _ . That’s how fucking proud Kamasaki was.

 

He needed to be knocked down a few pegs, probably. Good thing Kenji was here to keep his ego in check. “It’s all right,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

 

“Uh huh. Sure. Just all right, huh?”

 

“Are you deaf now, Kamasaki-san?”

 

“Only as much as you can’t taste.”

 

Kenji worked his jaw for a second, certain that he’d have a response--

 

But the only sound was Kamasaki’s quiet snickering. “Aw man, your  _ face _ .”

 

Kenji huffed. “Touche,” he muttered, and dug into his lasagna.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr and twitter @theauthorish


End file.
